


that secret that you know (but you don't know how to tell)

by longhairandbarefeet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, F/M, Flirting, Humor, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 10:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairandbarefeet/pseuds/longhairandbarefeet
Summary: “Did you like it?” Jon asks anxiously. He’s turning the knob down on the radio, and is biting at the skin on his chapped lips, it’s a nervous habit of his to do, but it’s a bad habit of hers to wish he’d do that to her mouth instead. The thought of him reaching over, kissing her, and pushing his teeth into the skin of her bottom lip causes warmth to spread in her body like fire in her veins, a much-accepted feeling in the middle of the night, in the middle of December, and in a car without heat.akaa modern jon and arya autitle: blood bank by bon iver





	that secret that you know (but you don't know how to tell)

**Author's Note:**

> completely unedited, so any mistakes are due to my lack of proper proofreading, and the desire to post it asap :) please enjoy!

“Did you like it?” Jon asks anxiously. He’s turning the knob down on the radio, and is biting at the skin on his chapped lips, it’s a nervous habit of his to do, but it’s a bad habit of hers to wish he’d do that to her mouth instead. The thought of him reaching over, kissing her, and pushing his teeth into the skin of her bottom lip causes warmth to spread in her body like fire in her veins, a much-accepted feeling in the middle of the night, in the middle of December, and in a car without heat. 

 

“Yeah, I did, very much.” Arya nods, pushing her head against the headrest and turning to stare intently at him, another bad habit of hers she’s yet to break. His fingers are clutching the wheel, and she silently wonders why he has them there. They are sitting in her parent’s driveway together at one am, the glow of the porch light and floodlights allowing them enough light to see each other without turning his car engine on. They aren’t going anywhere tonight, and yet his hands stay at ten and two. 

 

“I’m glad you liked it.” Jon smiles as his dark gray eyes glow in the dim lights around them. She curses herself for not being good at verbalizing her actual feelings for him because if she were braver, she’d tell him how handsome he looks right now. “Because, this song, it reminds me of you.” 

 

Arya opens her mouth to say something back, but she closes it again because she’s left speechless. She usually always has something to say to him, a sarcastic remark or witty retort, but right now all humor escapes her brain and she’s only left with silence. He has never said anything to her like this before and some part of her thinks she may have misheard him, but when he finally looks at her, she knows she had heard him right. 

 

She’s known him since she was twelve, a little girl with messy braids and an even messier attitude. One of the first times she had seen him, he was just a shy seventeen year old with an over washed band tee shirt on and a mop of messy black curls. She was sitting at the top of the stairs, something she did most nights she couldn’t fall asleep. She ended up listening to Jon and Robb talk about some party they had went a few days before, how drunk they had gotten or the girls they had kissed there. It never occurred to her that three years later, they’d be sitting here together. That he would become a friend to her, a sentiment she still feels strange admitting.

 

“I never thought I’d live to see the day...” Jon says finally pushing her from her nostalgia and back into the passenger seat.

 

“What?” Arya replies, arching her brows. 

 

“Nothing, I just...” Jon continues, clearing his throat. “I think that this is the longest you’ve been quiet. I quite enjoyed the silence.” 

 

“Oh, shut up.” She says rolling her eyes, and punching at his arm. She pretends she hates the relentless teasing, but she smiles up at him because she’s grown accustom to it. “You’d miss my mouth, and you know it.” 

 

She doesn’t realize how flirtatious and shocking it sounds coming out of her mouth until it’s already been said, and she chuckles at how uncomfortable he looks. His hands are still tightly on the wheel, and his knuckles are turning white at the pressure he’s placing on his fingers. 

 

“Why are you doing that?” Arya finally says, tapping her fingers on the wheel, frowning at the coldness of it. “Why don’t you just put them in your pockets or in your lap?”

 

“They are fine.” Jon lifts his hands to examine them; balling them into fists and straightening them back out. “I can barely feel them anyways.”

 

“You are an idiot, you know that don’t you?”

 

“If you must know so badly, I keep my hands on the wheel, so I don’t lose control.” He says rubbing his palms together, and moving them up to his lips to breathe hot air into them. He keeps his hands together, laces his fingers, and places them on his lap. “I can’t afford to lose control.”

 

“What do you mean lose control?" Arya presses her hand to her mouth with fake shock and dismay. "Oh no, will you turn green? Destroy cities? Do that Hulk smash thing?” Arya giggles, pushing a few strands of hair that has fallen from her ponytail behind her ear, and readjusting her scarf. “You’ve seen those superhero movies too many times, I knew they’d fry your brain.” 

 

“When I say lose control, Arya,” Jon pauses and looks at her again. She is waiting to see what he’ll do and almost stops breathing when she feels his hands on her thighs. She’s wearing a pair of Sansa’s leggings, an uncharacteristic choice because it’s below freezing outside, and while she spent the day admonishing herself for not washing her jeans the night before, right now she’s grateful she’s absolute shit at doing laundry. 

 

His fingers trace patterns and shapes, and he squeezes and presses, and she doesn’t have to wonder if he likes it because his eyes remain focused on their task. He’s never touched her like this before, come to think of it; he’s never touched her at all. She touches him sometimes, slaps his arm when he says something that makes her mad, flicks his ear from time to time, and sometimes pulls his hair to get his attention, but this isn’t like that at all. She only feels like this at night, when she lays in bed and allows herself to think about what it would feel like if he pressed his hand at the spot between her thighs. 

 

“I meant with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!!! I really enjoyed writing it and if you have any modern au you'd like to see in this verse or another, let me know!!!


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